Reflection
by Lil black dog
Summary: A companion piece to 'Precious Gift'. It'd be best to read that one first, but it isn't necessary.


Disclaimer: Trek isn't mine, yada, yada, yada.

A/N: This is for Nutty, and Anna, and Vero, all of whom asked me questions about 'Precious Gift' that I felt compelled to answer. Plus, I wanted to know just what mischief those Kirk boys managed to get themselves into…

Beta by Anna Amuse and SLWatson – thanks ladies!

Acknowledgement to Anna for Tarkelian tea and Garen – thanks for letting me use them!

**Reflection**

_C'mon, Squirt, you gotta keep up!" _

_His legs were churning, arms pumping furiously as he tried to match the other's stride._

"_No fair! You're bigger'n me – how'm I supposed to run as fast as you?" he gasped, his chest burning now, the need for oxygen becoming desperate, immediate._

_His tormenter slowed his pace somewhat, turning to face him, running backwards now, but still managing to keep a step ahead. "If I've told ya once, I've told ya a million times – it doesn't matter how big you are, or how strong you are, or how much bigger 'n stronger the other guy is – mind over matter, Squirt. There are gonna be times when you aren't the biggest or the strongest, so you have to be the smartest," his self-appointed mentor finished, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief._

_They were on their way to the quarry, the best swimming hole around these parts, but a pleasure expressly forbidden by their mother later that evening, once she found out they had been frequenting it. _

"_It's just not safe; it's too deep, way too cold, and the water much too cloudy. There's no way to tell if there are rocks hidden just below the surface. A childhood friend of your dad's broke his neck diving in to that quarry on a dare. His friends managed to pull him out before he drowned, but he was paralyzed for the rest of his life, and I won't have either of my sons risking their necks when there's a perfectly suitable swimming hole down at the creek by the Olsen farm. So help me, if I ever find out the two of you have been back there, I'll ground you until next planting season!" _

"_But Mom, all the kids go there! And besides, who says we have to dive in? What if we promised not to do that? Then can we go? I promise I'll watch out for Jimmy. 'Sides, he's already a great swimmer – even though he's only ten he can beat most of the boys who're a coupla years older'n him."_

'_My answer is 'no' and that's final! And don't think just because your dad's away you can get away with it. If you go again I'll find out, and mark my words, you'll be sorry that you didn't…"_

His daydream was interrupted by the sound of a throat being cleared softly. Startled, he snapped his attention to the yeoman standing beside the command chair, padd in hand, looking at him with a concerned frown. He shot her one of his most charming grins, snatched the report and signed it with a flourish, offering it back to her.

"Captain, can I get you anything – some coffee perhaps? You seem a little tired today."

"No, thank you, Yeoman. Three weeks of this monotony is starting to make me feel like a fifth wheel up here. Now I know what they mean by 'Captain Dunsel.'"

The yeoman took the proffered padd, favoring Kirk with a confused frown once again. "Yes, sir, very well, sir," she said, beating a hasty retreat for the turbolift.

At her departure, the images started again:

_Mucking out stalls in the horse barn, Sam playfully throwing manure at him. He grabbed a handful and rushed his older brother, knocking him off his feet into a pile of droppings on the dirt floor, rubbing the pungent dross liberally in his hair. Sam returned just as good as he got, and soon the two of them were covered in muck, laughing uncontrollably._

_He remembered his mom's words when they entered the kitchen, breathless, doubled over in laughter, and reeking to high heaven: "Good Lord, what have you two been up to now?" She wrinkled her nose, which just sent the two of them off into fits of giggling again. "I don't know what I'm ever going to do with you boys – if there's mischief to be had, it seems to be drawn to the two of you like matter to a black hole. Alright, enough clowning around. Upstairs, both of you, and get cleaned up." Despite her apparent anger, she ruffled their hair affectionately. "Now scoot! And I'd better not find those filthy, smelly clothes all over your bedroom floor, or I'll make_ you two_ scrub the carpet."_

_Riding bareback, the two of them racing over the plain, Sam ahead as always, casting a smug yet appreciative grin over his shoulder. "Jeez, if Mom had known we were doing that she'd have skinned us alive."_

_Sam teaching him the fine art of fishing for Bluegills with a homemade pole, explaining how to bait the hook properly: "You've gotta run the hook down through the _center_ of the worm, Squirt, otherwise the fish'll just rip it off. You hafta make 'em work for it…"_

He looked up to see Spock waiting patiently at his elbow, the Vulcan's face carefully masked, devoid of any expression. He grinned at Spock, hoping it served to cover his contemplative mood.

"Shall I be expecting you for our workout after shift, Captain?"

"Thanks, Spock, but no. I've got a lot of paperwork to catch up on, and I should take the opportunity to do so while things are quiet here. You know as well as I do how fast that can change," he answered, trying to keep the sadness from his voice.

Spock reflected on that answer for a moment, before asking, "Perhaps a chess game later this evening, then, in my quarters, if that is acceptable?"

_Well, it'd sure beat the hell out of spending the evening alone in my quarters wallowing in self-pity._

"Sure Spock, that sounds fine. 20:00?"

"I shall expect you at that time, Captain."

***

The preparations were made, chess board set up, two glasses of Tarkelian tea at the ready. Now he was just awaiting Kirk's arrival. Meditation had proven ineffective – he was still unsure of how to broach this subject without angering the captain. Jim was a very private man, and didn't take well to anyone, even his second-in-command, prying into his personal affairs.

Last year, Spock had seen similar behavior from his captain, but had respected his desire for privacy at that time. Not so this year. Their relationship had been growing and evolving subtly during the course of the previous year, becoming more open, trusting, and he was unwilling to allow Kirk to suffer alone this time. He wished to do what he could to help Jim through this difficult time – by acknowledging and understanding his pain.

His musings were interrupted by the buzzer to his quarters. "Come."

Jim walked in, hesitating for a moment in the doorway. He crossed the distance in a few swift strides, seating himself at the desk and sipping at his tea.

"Thanks, Spock. That always hits the spot. And you made it just how I like it," he added, a satisfied smile lighting his face.

"Indeed. Since I prefer it in the same manner, it is not difficult to prepare several glasses," Spock replied, sipping his as well. "Shall we begin, Captain?"

Kirk made the first move, the game proceeding rapidly, the two making small talk and discussing minor ship's business while they played. Kirk lost quickly, however, and was in check only a few moves into their second game.

"Jim, you are playing most illogically this evening – even for you," Spock said in all seriousness, but allowing a ghost of a smile to hover around his eyes.

"Sorry Spock, guess my mind isn't on the game tonight," Kirk replied apologetically, moving his queen to the third level after carefully contemplating the board.

"As I surmised it would not be, Jim," he added carefully, watching Kirk's reaction.

Kirk looked up suddenly. "Really? And what is that supposed to mean?" he asked. Spock could hear the fatigue and the undercurrent of sadness in his voice.

"It does not _mean_ anything, Jim, except that I expected your concentration would be compromised today."

"And just why would you think that?" Kirk retorted harshly, anger flashing in his eyes.

Spock remained calm, having expected just such a reaction. "I am aware, just as you are, of the significance of this day, Jim. And I grieve with thee."

Kirk swallowed and dropped his gaze to the desk, toying with his tea, the chess game obviously forgotten, absentmindedly wiping at the droplets of moisture that had formed on his glass. He closed his eyes briefly, and Spock could see him struggling for control.

Spock recalled the day, two years ago, when they had arrived on Deneva to find Kirk's brother Sam had died – a victim of the parasites infesting the colony there. Spock had tried to offer his condolences and support, but Kirk had rebuffed the attempt outright, and Spock had summarily dropped the matter.

"It's been two years, Spock – I grieved and moved on. Peter is doing well, back on the farm with Mom. The past is the past – I can't change it, so why dwell on it?" he said softly, head still bent, not meeting Spock's eyes.

"That may be true, Jim, but time does not heal all losses. You did not often speak of your brother, but when you did it was always with the utmost respect, tinged with awe and admiration."

"And that surprises you?" his captain asked gruffly, shifting his glance to the Vulcan's face. "The great Captain Kirk in awe of another being?"

"It does not. He was your older brother – it was only natural that you looked to him for guidance, sought his approval," Spock answered gently. "He was your brother, and you loved him."

"And just what the hell would you know about that, Spock?" Jim was really furious now, glaring at Spock before looking away. Spock could see a number of emotions play over his captain's face as Kirk tried to reign in the anger, his breathing harsh and ragged.

Spock dropped his gaze to his lap. He understood the loss much better than Kirk believed, for he once had an older brother that he looked up to as well – and like Jim, he was one of the few beings who had ever accepted Spock for who he was, not what he wished him to be. Spock had loved Sybok with that innocence and complete trust children have for those people important to them, and when Sybok had been declared outcast and sent away from Sarek's house, Spock had missed him terribly, the loss incomprehensible and surprisingly painful for the sensitive five-year-old.

"I'm sorry, Spock – that was uncalled for. I guess I do feel worse than I admitted, even to myself," Kirk apologized sheepishly. Spock looked up at that and could see the remorse written plainly in his captain's eyes.

"But that is just it, Jim – the fact is, I do know how it feels to lose a brother, for I almost lost one, twice in fact, in the last three point two seven months," Spock replied, not breaking eye contact, allowing his gaze to bore into Jim, willing his captain to understand his meaning.

"Wha-?" Kirk began, his uncertainty clear, his eyes on the Vulcan, searching his face. Spock watched as confusion turned slowly to understanding, the implication of Spock's words becoming obvious. Kirk continued to study his First Officer quietly for a few moments, his eyes softening in appreciation of the sentiment expressed, but the buzzer to Spock's quarters sounded, breaking the moment. The doors swished open before permission to enter was given.

"Spock, I –," McCoy started as he entered, swallowing the rest of his sentence as he noticed Kirk seated at the desk opposite Spock.

"Oh, hi Jim," he began awkwardly, "I just needed to touch base with Spock on –"

"Forget it, Bones, I know why you're here," Kirk interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "It would seem Spock has beaten you to the punch, however."

McCoy glanced quickly at Spock. He cocked an eyebrow at McCoy, tilting his head slightly towards the doctor and crossing his arms over his chest. McCoy looked back to Kirk, asking gently, "You okay, Jim? How are you holding up?"

"I'm glad to know my two best friends think I'm an emotional wreck," the Captain said, somewhat sarcastically, favoring McCoy with a slightly acerbic glare.

"We're just worried about you, Jim," McCoy said, gathering Spock into that statement with his eyes. "Losing a brother is never easy, and the circumstances surrounding Sam's death were particularly difficult." He had moved to stand at the end of the desk, assuming his typical stance when something distressed him, hands behind his back, bouncing slightly on his toes.

"I'm all right, really gentlemen. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it today, but I've made peace with the loss. Sam wouldn't want me to dwell on it. He'd probably say something like, 'get over it, kid.'" Kirk dropped his gaze to the desk again, toying with one of the captured chess pieces, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. "Sam and I were very close as kids, and since Dad was away so much Sam was the person I looked up to, the one I admired and wanted to be like, but as we got older and our career choices took us in different directions, we grew apart. The affection was always there – he was my big brother after all – but it wasn't the same as when we were kids. I've tried to spend today remembering the good times we shared…and the mischief we caused. God, we were into everything as kids. If Mom knew some of the stuff we'd done…" His voice trailed off, wistful and melancholy.

"Well, at least you're acknowledging it, which is a lot more than we got you to do when it happened. You're not Spock, you know – he might be able to keep it all in without going supernova, although I have my doubts – but you _are_ only human, much as you might like to believe you're indestructible," McCoy said quietly. Spock watched as the doctor placed a supportive hand on Jim's shoulder.

As they fell silent, Spock sensed the awkwardness of the moment, choosing to engage McCoy in one of their 'famous' arguments as a means to alleviate the tension. "Doctor, even you must be fully aware that it is a physical impossibility for a person to go 'supernova,'" he stated reproachfully.

"Jeez Spock, why do you always have to take everything so blasted literally?" McCoy said, turning to the Vulcan. "I only meant that it's unhealthy for humans to hold in their feelings – and I firmly believe that you holding in _your_ feelings –" Spock rolled his eyes slightly at this, "– will someday be your undoing," McCoy finished with a flourish. "Mark my words, Spock," he said, waggling a finger at the Vulcan for emphasis, "it's gonna happen someday, and when it does, I just hope I'm there to say 'I told you so.'" Yet despite the seeming gruffness of his words, Spock could see McCoy's genuine affection and concern for him in the doctor's eyes.

His relationship with the irascible medico had undergone some changes as well during the last year. Spock could not think of their time on Planet 4, Star System 892, without experiencing some mild discomfort. The doctor had been struggling in the arena, and Spock realized if McCoy had died there, it would have affected him more than he cared to admit. It had also been extremely painful to witness McCoy's agony at the hands of the Vians. He had been deeply concerned for both of his friends on that day. But it was Jim's final words the two of them had watched together when they believed Kirk lost in Tholian space that had made him realize McCoy was not his enemy, despite the doctor's antagonistic nature. Jim had seen the value in their relationship, and it had been an illuminating insight for Spock. It really would take the two of them working together to protect Jim from himself.

"Well, I think I'll be going – wouldn't want to wear out my welcome."

"Really, Doctor, I wasn't aware one could 'wear out' an intangible concept," Spock intoned, allowing his affection to show by raising an eyebrow and relaxing the muscles of his face slightly. The doctor shifted his gaze to Spock, gracing him with a warm smile.

"Thanks Bones, the sentiment is appreciated, but I'm really okay," the captain interjected.

McCoy's attention once again returned to Kirk, who beamed at him, then lifted his glass, downing the remainder of his tea.

"Okay, g'night, Jim, night Spock." He looked first to Kirk and then to Spock, who could sense McCoy's relief as their eyes met. The Vulcan acknowledged it with an almost imperceptible nod of the head and slight quirking of the corners of his mouth.

At McCoy's departure, the room once again became quiet, each man temporarily lost in his own thoughts. It was Kirk who spoke first. "You were right, you know. I have been preoccupied today, but what I'm feeling for Sam isn't so much loss, as guilt," he said quietly, eyeing the Vulcan carefully.

"Why would you feel this way, Jim? There was nothing you could have done differently to prevent his death." Spock was genuinely confused by this statement.

"Not guilty because I didn't prevent it, but guilty because I was thankful I didn't have to witness it. It was hard enough to see Aurelan in such pain, to watch her die, but for me to watch Sam would have been unbearable," he said softly, the anguish at remembering those events clearly visible.

"There is no shame in that, Jim, it is understandable for one not to wish to personally experience the pain of someone who is close to you," Spock offered gently.

"But there's more to the guilt than just that." The captain sighed, pausing briefly. "You know, Spock, I think of you as my brother as well, and as much as I felt Sam's loss at the time, a small part of me was relieved it wasn't you," Kirk confessed quietly, dropping his gaze from the Vulcan's face. "Sam was the brother of my youth – the one I looked up to and admired, and I do miss him, more than I care to admit sometimes, but you are my brother in arms, the one I trust implicitly and rely on without thinking twice. The one who keeps me honest, questions me when I need it, makes sure I don't lose sight of what's important, and yet stands by me unerringly. That is a priceless gift, and a lot more than I had with Sam," Kirk finished softly.

Startled, Spock looked down swiftly, suddenly light-headed, feeling the heat suffuse his features. Perhaps this was what Garen* meant when he had spoken to Spock of the bond of t'hy'la all those years ago. It was a rare gift, special and unique in its own right, and something Spock had never expected to experience. "You honor me, Jim," he said simply, meeting Kirk's eyes over the chessboard.

"As you do me, my friend."

They lapsed into silence once again, a wide grin breaking over Kirk's countenance.

"Thank you, Spock."

"I do not understand. For what are you thanking me?"

"For remembering, for understanding, for wanting to share this with me, and most of all, for trusting me enough to offer me your friendship – it's an unexpected gift and one I cherish."

"As do I, Jim," the Vulcan said quietly, allowing his eyes to say what his words could not.

After a few moments of quiet, shared camaraderie, Kirk got to his feet. "It's getting late, Spock, I really should be going," his captain remarked, his face flushing slightly.

"If you feel you must, Jim, that is agreeable. We can finish the game at another time," Spock replied, also rising from his chair, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Why, so you can beat the pants off me again?" Kirk stated, the affection showing clearly in his voice.

"Jim, why should I wish for you to lose your trousers, as well as a chess game?" Spock asked, his tone serious, but mischief evident in his eyes.

"You're insufferable, you know that?" Jim responded, the warmth in his voice allowing for no misunderstanding of the sentiment behind his words, his smile warm and genuine. Upon hearing the unmistakable fondness in Kirk's response, Spock felt an unusual fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach, the strange light-headedness returning briefly.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Kirk said, heading for his own quarters.

***

As Spock meditated before the asenoi, he reflected on his two friends. As a young boy on Vulcan, friendship of this magnitude was something he never expected to experience. They were each so different, so utterly unique, yet Spock valued them both, for expressly different reasons. Kirk's intuitive impulsiveness, combined with McCoy's open honesty and compassion were a perfect counterbalance to his cool and serene logic. Yes, Jim was t'hy'la to him, of that he was now certain, just as McCoy was the antithesis to his calm, analytical personality, his devil's advocate, for lack of a better word. But most importantly, he trusted each of them implicitly. When the three of them worked together, there was precious little they couldn't achieve or resolve. He marveled that he, a Vulcan, dedicated to logic, should find himself drawn to these two men. And yet he was. He suspected that Garen would have been pleased with him.

* for a more complete understanding of Garen's importance to Spock, see Anna Amuse's story 'Learning To Be'.


End file.
